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HINENI: Rosh HaShanah 5763, September 2002

by Student Rabbi Sari Laufer

My Elul, the month preceding the High Holy Days, this year was spent packing my childhood room and belongings, moving to Los Angeles, traveling to Vermont, coming back to Los Angeles, frantically preparing to be here, and finally, traveling here. Far from a month of spiritual reflection and penitential preparation, this has been one of massive change, of newness, of looking ahead. This tension between past, present, and future is an acute one in Jewish history, and is nowhere more present than in these opening moments of the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe. We stand in what might be termed a liminal moment, where we are poised on the brink of a New Year, with new promises and new possibilities. Yet we are not fully disentangled from our past, with its successes and its failures.

As we know from life experience, and as our High Holiday liturgy teaches us in Jewish experience, moving into the future requires an accounting with our past. As I packed up my room, images from the past bombarded me. Finding my high school yearbook, I found myself reflecting on the quote a good friend had chosen, from The Phantom Tollbooth, by Norton Juster. If you have not read the book, I highly suggest it, for it is one of those children's stories that means more as an adult. The quote reads:

"I know one thing for certain; it's much harder to tell whether you ARE lost than whether you WERE lost, for, on many occasions, where you're GOING is exactly where you ARE. On the other hand, you often find that where you've been is not at all where you should have gone, and, since it's much more difficult to find your way back from someplace you've never left, I suggest you go there immediately and then decide".

When I first read the novel, I was certainly amused by the word play and humor throughout the book, but an adult rereading reveals some of the more hidden subtexts and meanings. This passage, read now, seems to ask an existential question about where we are, where we have been, and where we are going. And as Norton Juster suggests, it might be easiest to start with where you are.

How many of you own a cell phone?? And how many times, when you answer the phone, does the caller say: "Hey, how are you? WHERE are you?" There was a time - not so long ago - that if someone was calling you, they were calling you at home, or at work. They KNEW where you were; your location was fixed. But now, we all ask that question "Where are you?"

Luckily, in these cases, it is only our friends and family asking, and they are only asking in the literal sense; they are wondering where we are - physically. Are we on the highway? Sitting at home? In the middle of running errands? They ask the question, and we can respond with a one-word answer, with no deeper meaning. Where are you? "Home."

In the Torah portion we read today, containing the story of the Binding of Isaac, it is God who asks Abraham where he is. In calling out to him, "Abraham," what God really means is "Abraham - where ARE you?" And Abraham too gives a brief answer. As the text reads: "Vayomer Hineni" - and he said, "Here I am."

Initially, it seems to be a simple answer to a simple question. God asks: "Where are you?" and Abraham says, "Here I am." But it is not so simple.

There are multiple instances in the Tanakh where God calls and someone answers Hineni. These someones are not mere characters, they are the very characters whose lives shaped ours. Abraham is called to offer his much-beloved son on the altar, Moses is called from within the burning bush and chosen as the leader of the Israelites, the prophet Isaiah is called to prophecy. They all have the same answer: Hineni. They answered God's call with an acknowledgement of their own presence and of God's presence. But acknowledging one's presence in this sense means more than simply announcing a location. These three Biblical figures, called upon in dramatic moments for dramatic tasks, answered Hineni as an offering - that they were standing before God, ready to do as God asked of them.

When attendance gets taken in class, students respond differently when their names are called. Some people wearily lift a finger to signify their physical location in the classroom, as if even that small action is exerting too much energy. Others raise their hands, acknowledging their presence and the teacher's question. Still others, however, answer "Hineni", I'm here. In doing so, they acknowledge their presence, their teacher's presence, and the relationship between the two. Their "I'm here," says: "I'm here, I heard you, and I am ready to learn."

This is what Abraham's Hineni, Moshe's Hineni, Isaiah's Hineni is saying to God. In the words of Rabbi Amy Eilberg, "in these classic stories of leaders responding to divine communication that would transform their lives, the brief answer "Hineni" carries a world of meaning. It means, "I am here." It means, "I am ready to do as you ask. I am willing to go where you send me." It means, "I am open to what will unfold from this moment on." Hineni implies being fully and completely present. In the context of this morning's reading, for us to say Hineni seems daunting. If we acknowledge our presence, physically and existentially, are we going to be asked to make a major sacrifice?? If we believe that we CAN be called by God, can we really be ready for what is to come?

Yet this morning's reading also teaches us that to answer Hineni is not ONLY to respond to God. Hineni, then, does not have to be the preparation for a hurdle to be leapt, a sacrifice to be made. In the very same text as that in which Abraham answers God's "Abraham?" with Hineni, Abraham also answers his son with the same answer. In one of the more poignant moments of the Akedah, Isaac says to Abraham, "Father!" and Abraham answers him: "Hineni, my son." Isaac is not asking Abraham to do anything in particular. There is no hidden subtext in the question, no dire request. The question ends with the line, "Va-yelchu shneihem yachdav, and the two walked on together." This touching image of father and son walking hand and hand into the future, however grim, suggests the truest meaning of Isaac's question: "Father," and Abraham's answer: "Hineni." Isaac just wanted to know that his dad was there, walking along with him. And Abraham assured him: "I am here son. I am fully and completely here with you."

I think it is safe to assume that none of us is going to hear the voice of God calling us from a burning bush. Nor are we likely to be chosen as the next prophet of the people Israel. And I deeply, deeply hope that none of us will be asked to make a sacrifice of the magnitude of Abraham's, for God or for any other cause. But the call can be simpler than that. It can be your supervisor at work, asking your input on an important new development. It can be a call from a long-lost friend wanting to reconnect. It can be the news of the sickness of a loved one. It can be the joyful sound of a new baby crying. It can be your son or daughter asking for just a little more time with you - a ride to a weekly soccer practice, help with homework. All of these "calls" are deserving of Hineni, in its fullest sense. To answer any of these calls, we must do so with our entire being. We are reminded in our prayers that "You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength." So too must we answer the calls in our lives with these parts of us. We must enter into relationships fully, to give all we can.

A key word in this discussion of Hineni and what it means is "relationship." Hineni is not said out of the blue, but in context of a relationship. And by their very definition, relationships are mutual. Relationships with people are give and take, and our relationship with God should be as well. Last night, we read the Hineni prayer, which in Reform tradition "opens" the Yamim Noraim. In this context, Hineni is an introduction, rather than a response. It is a method of opening up a mutuality. In the prayer, we said:

"Hineni, Here I am, behold me of little merit, trembling and afraid, as I stand before you to plead for Your people..."

Much of the focus of the Yamim Noraim is on forgiveness. Our tradition teaches us that "For transgressions against God, the Day of Atonement atones. But for transgressions of one human being against another, the Day of Atonement does not atone until they have made peace with one another." The Hineni prayer opens this season of forgiveness. The word Hineni here is not a response, but rather a plea - both to God, but also to our fellow humans. It is saying, "I am here. I know I have done wrong. And I am asking you to listen to my apology. I am asking you to forgive." Yet, even in this context, it carries the sense of presence, of complete and full presence. We are acknowledging that we are there, standing before God and our community, ready to open a dialogue of forgiveness. With this Hineni, we are sending a reminder of the mutuality of the relationship; if God and humanity can ask deeds of us, we can do the same to God and humanity.

The mutuality of Hineni is clearly illustrated throughout our text. Hineni implies a relationship - it is an answer from one to the other. Even in the story of Abraham, when he answers Hineni a second time, that Hineni is answered by God, in the form of the angel stopping the sacrifice of Isaac. More explicitly, the Haftarah portion traditionally read on Yom Kippur afternoon, from the Book of Isaiah, tells us that there is a give and take relationship in the response: Hineni. If we truly are present, if we respond w hen God calls, then, as the text says: Az tikrah vašAdonai yašaneh, ti-shavah va-yomer Hineni. Then, when you call, Adonai will answer. When you cry, God will answer: Hineni.

Today we stand on the brink of the New Year. These upcoming days are filled with possibility, and filled with reflection. Now is the time to think back on the years past, and to apologize for NOT saying Hineni when we were called upon. But even more importantly, it is a time to really open our ears and our hearts and our souls - our entire beings - and listen for the calls that are yet to come. Be they from God, from family, from jobs, from friends, from nature, from the worldŠwe should hear them. And I pray that when we hear our respective calls, we are all ready to answer fully and presently: Hineni. I am here.

L'shana tovah umetukah!